The Children's Classics and Young Adult book lists (along with their
corresponding links in the Audio Books and Films lists) are slowly
nearing completion.
For those interested in Coloring Pages,
the next few days will be dedicated to uploading more beautiful
illustrations from the Andrew Lang Fairy Books and other titles in the
Fairy Tales and Folklore section.
If you have any special requests for coloring pages please leave them in the comments section below.
Thanks for Browsing Cattails Library!
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Film: Don Quixote cartoon
The 1935 cartoon version of Miguel de Cervantes novel.
Film: Animal farm
The 1954 animated version of George Orwell's Tale.
Film: Don Quixote
The 1933 film adaptation of Miguel de Cervantes' novel.
Film: The Trial
The 1962 film adaptation of Franz Kafka's novel. Directed by Orson Welles and starring Anthony Perkins.
(Note: this film is in the public domain but there is some dispute about its status according to GATT. It can be viewed but not downloaded.)
(Note: this film is in the public domain but there is some dispute about its status according to GATT. It can be viewed but not downloaded.)
Film: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
The 1955 Classic tv version of Robert Louis Stevenson's novel. Presented by Climax! the screenplay was written by Gore Vidal.
Film: Jane Eyre
The 1949 Classic tv version of Charlotte Brontë's novel. Presented by Studio One and starring Charlton Heston.
Film: Of Human Bondage
The 1934 film adaptation of Somerset Maugham's novel starring Bette Davis and Leslie Howard.
Film: 1984
The 1953 Classic tv adaptation of George Orwell's "1984" from Studio One. Starring Eddy Albert, Lorne Greene and Robert Culp.
Film: A Tale of Two Cities
A 1953 television adaptation of Charles Dickens' "A Tale of Two Cities". A very condensed version by the "Plymouth Players".
film: David Copperfield
This is the 1969 film adaptation of Charles Dickens' "David Copperfield".
Beatrix Potter
This is a list of works by Beatrix Potter and links that Cattails Library currently has available :
Jemima Puddle Duck, Beatrix Potter
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The Story of a Fierce Bad Rabbit, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Benjamin Bunny, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher, Beatrix Potter
read download listen watch (This story is still in copyright in the EU and so should not be downloaded from there.)
The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Tom Kitten, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Two Bad Mice, Beatrix Potter
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The Tailor of Gloucester, Beatrix Potter
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Jemima Puddle Duck, Beatrix Potter
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The Story of a Fierce Bad Rabbit, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Benjamin Bunny, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Mr. Jeremy Fisher, Beatrix Potter
read download listen watch (This story is still in copyright in the EU and so should not be downloaded from there.)
The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Tom Kitten, Beatrix Potter
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The Tale of Two Bad Mice, Beatrix Potter
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The Tailor of Gloucester, Beatrix Potter
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Film: The Elephant Boy
The Elephant Boy is based on an excerpt from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Book" called "Toomai of the elephants".
film: Robin Hood
The 1922 silent film adaptation of Robin Hood starring Douglas Fairbanks.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Coloring Pages: Jason and the Argonauts
Coloring pages about the story of Jason and the golden fleece taken from Chapter 1 "The Argonauts" from the book "The Book of Wonder Voyages" edited by Joseph Jacobs.
Right click over the image to open it in a new tab then select print.
(Note: This book is not available to download in Black and white. If you print in black and white the background will appear grey. On a color printer it will appear as shown.)
Right click over the image to open it in a new tab then select print.
(Note: This book is not available to download in Black and white. If you print in black and white the background will appear grey. On a color printer it will appear as shown.)
Every Child Should Know books
So far, Cattails has a collection of 13 books with the theme of what "Every Child Should Know".
Every Child Should Know, Poems
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Every Child Should Know, Heroes
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Every Child Should Know, Essays
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Every Child Should Know, Prose
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Every Child Should Know, Fairy Tales
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Every Child Should Know, Operas
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Every Child Should Know, Legends
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Every Child Should Know, Songs
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Every Child Should Know, Wild Flowers
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Every Child Should Know, Trees
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Every Child Should Know, Myths
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Every Child Should Know, Birds
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Every Child Should Know, Pictures
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Every Child Should Know, Poems
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Every Child Should Know, Heroes
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Every Child Should Know, Essays
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Every Child Should Know, Prose
read download listen
Every Child Should Know, Fairy Tales
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Every Child Should Know, Operas
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Every Child Should Know, Legends
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Every Child Should Know, Songs
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Every Child Should Know, Wild Flowers
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Every Child Should Know, Trees
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Every Child Should Know, Myths
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Every Child Should Know, Birds
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Every Child Should Know, Pictures
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Thursday, February 28, 2013
Author: H.G. Wells
Cattails Library has links to four of H.G. Wells works so far:
The Invisible Man
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The Time Machine
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The Shape of things to Come
read Note: this book is specifically protected by copyright within the U.S.A. so anyone in or using a sytem within the U.S.A. cannot legally view or download this file.
watch Note: While this film is listed as being in the Public Domain, it seems there is also a notice of intent to enforce copyright on this work.
The War of the Worlds
read download listen audio book listen original broadcast
The Invisible Man
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The Time Machine
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The Shape of things to Come
read Note: this book is specifically protected by copyright within the U.S.A. so anyone in or using a sytem within the U.S.A. cannot legally view or download this file.
watch Note: While this film is listed as being in the Public Domain, it seems there is also a notice of intent to enforce copyright on this work.
The War of the Worlds
read download listen audio book listen original broadcast
Film: Treasure Island
The 1952 Studio One version of Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island"
film: Oliver Twist
The 1933 adaptation of Charles Dickens' "Oliver Twist" starring Dickie Moore.
film: King solomon's Mines
1937 version of Rider Haggard's "King Solomon's Mines" starring Paul Robeson.
film: Great Expectations
This is the 1946 version of the Charles Dickens classic "Great Expectations"
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film: Frankenstein
The 1910 Thomas Edison film adaptation of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein".
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Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Film: Things to Come
This 1936 film is an adaptation of H. G. Wells' "The Shape of things to come" and Wells himself wrote the screenplay.
film: The Wizard of Oz
A slapstick silent version of "The Wizard of Oz" starring Oliver Hardy.
Film: The Phantom of the Opera
1925 film adaptation of the "Phantom of the Opera" starring Lon Chaney.
Film: Mr. Robinson Crusoe
1932 film "inspired" by Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe".
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Film: The Lost World
1925 film adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Lost World"
film: A farewell to Arms
1932 film starring Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes.
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film: Cyrano De Bergerac
1950 film starring Jose Ferrer.
For more information about Cyrano de Bergerac (Hercule-Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac) click here.
For more information about Cyrano de Bergerac (Hercule-Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac) click here.
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Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Film:"The Headless Horseman"
The "Headless Horseman". Film adapation of Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"
Film: The Jungle Book
1942 film adaptation of Kipling's "The Jungle book" directed by Zoltan Korda.
Film: "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm"
1917 silent version of "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" starring Mary Pickford.
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Film: "Pollyanna"
1919 silent version starring Mary Pickford.
Film: Little Lord Fauntleroy
1936 film directed by John Cromwell. Original novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
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Film: "The little Princess" based on "A little Princess"
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"Scrooge" 1935 film adaptation of "A Christmas Carol"
The 1935 film "Scrooge" based on Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol.
Audio Books in Cattails Library
This list of public domain audio books is continuously updated as new links become available.
A
A little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
A Tale of two Cities by Charles Dickens
Arabian Nights Entertainments edited by Andrew Lang
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
The Story of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, Andrew Lang
K
King Arthur's Knights: The Tales retold for Boys and Girls Henry Gilbert
L
M
N
O
P
Pinocchio: The Adventures of a Marionette by Carlo Collodi
Q
R
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin
Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving
Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
S
Swiss Family Robinson by Johann Wyss
T
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
The Iliad for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving
U
V
W
X
Y
Z
A
A little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
A Tale of two Cities by Charles Dickens
Arabian Nights Entertainments edited by Andrew Lang
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
The Story of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, Andrew Lang
K
King Arthur's Knights: The Tales retold for Boys and Girls Henry Gilbert
L
M
N
O
P
Pinocchio: The Adventures of a Marionette by Carlo Collodi
Q
R
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin
Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving
Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
S
Swiss Family Robinson by Johann Wyss
T
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
The Iliad for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving
U
V
W
X
Y
Z
Ancient Classics for Children
This is a collection books about the ancient classics especially written for children:
Greek Mythology
A Wonder Book for Girls and Boys, Nathaniel Hawthorne
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Tales of Troy and Greece, Andrew Lang
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The Children's Plutarch: Tales of the Greeks, Frederick James Gould
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Roman Mythology
The Aeneid for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
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The Children's Plutarch: Tales of the Romans, Frederick James Gould
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Homer
The Iliad for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
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The Odyssey for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
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Greek and Roman Heroes
Plutarch's Lives for Boys and Girls, Frederick James Gould
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King Arthur
King Arthur's Knights: The Tales retold for Boys and Girls, Henry Gilbert
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The Boy's King Arthur (according to Sir Thomas Malory) edited by Sidney Lanier
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Tales of the Round Table, Andrew Lang
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The Boy's Mabinogion, edited by Sidney Lanier
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Wonder Stories from the Mabinogion, Edward Brooks
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Other
Arabian Nights Entertainments edited by Andrew Lang
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The Story of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, Andrew Lang
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The Book of Wonder Voyages, Joseph Jacobs
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The Red Romance Book, Andrew Lang (post)
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The Boy's Froissart (Hundred Years War according to Sir John Froissart) edited by Sidney Lanier
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Greek Mythology
A Wonder Book for Girls and Boys, Nathaniel Hawthorne
read download listen watch download plain text
Tales of Troy and Greece, Andrew Lang
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The Children's Plutarch: Tales of the Greeks, Frederick James Gould
read download listen watch download plain text
Roman Mythology
The Aeneid for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
read download listen watch download plain text
The Children's Plutarch: Tales of the Romans, Frederick James Gould
read download listen watch download plain text
Homer
The Iliad for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
read download listen watch download plain text
The Odyssey for Boys and Girls, Alfred J. Church
read download listen watch download plain text
Greek and Roman Heroes
Plutarch's Lives for Boys and Girls, Frederick James Gould
read download listen watch download plain text
King Arthur
King Arthur's Knights: The Tales retold for Boys and Girls, Henry Gilbert
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The Boy's King Arthur (according to Sir Thomas Malory) edited by Sidney Lanier
read download listen watch download plain text
Tales of the Round Table, Andrew Lang
read download listen watch download plain text coloring pages
The Boy's Mabinogion, edited by Sidney Lanier
read download listen watch download plain text
Wonder Stories from the Mabinogion, Edward Brooks
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Other
Arabian Nights Entertainments edited by Andrew Lang
read download listen watch download plain text
The Story of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, Andrew Lang
read download listen watch download plain text
The Book of Wonder Voyages, Joseph Jacobs
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The Red Romance Book, Andrew Lang (post)
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The Boy's Froissart (Hundred Years War according to Sir John Froissart) edited by Sidney Lanier
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Sunday, February 24, 2013
Hans Brinker or the Silver Skates coloring pages
Free coloring pages from Mary Mapes Dodge's "Hans Brinker or the SIlver Skates" to download and print.
Right click on the image to open in a new tab and select print.
Love and Friendship by Emily Brontë
Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.
Friendship like the holly-tree
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.
How Do I love Thee? Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
‘And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
‘And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe
Hope is the Thing with Wings by Emily Dickinson
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Death be not Proud by John Donne
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
The Tyger by William Blake
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile his work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
In the forest of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did He smile his work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by William Butler Yeats
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!
Dulce et Decorum est by Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep.
Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod.
All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!
An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep.
Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod.
All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!
An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
To Autumn by John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
The Soldier by Rupert Brooke
IF I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft’ is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft’ is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Answer to a Child's Question by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,
The linner and thrush say, “I love and I love!”
In the winter they’re silent — the wind is so strong;
What it says, I don’t know, but it sings a loud song.
But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,
And singing, and loving — all come back together.
But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he-
“I love my Love, and my Love loves me!”
The linner and thrush say, “I love and I love!”
In the winter they’re silent — the wind is so strong;
What it says, I don’t know, but it sings a loud song.
But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,
And singing, and loving — all come back together.
But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he-
“I love my Love, and my Love loves me!”
The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
How Soon Hath Time by John Milton
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits endu’th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Taskmaster’s eye.
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits endu’th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Taskmaster’s eye.
Invictus by W. E. Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Daffodils by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed and gazed but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed and gazed but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
And dances with the daffodils.
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